


DON'T LET THEM SEE

by angelwriter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, First Time, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Soulmates, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 19:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwriter/pseuds/angelwriter
Summary: "Just once. One kiss, angel. If that is all you will give me. I will never ask again. I will go slower from now on. I will....pretend."Pretend? There was no pretending. Try as they might they could not deny how they felt and what was worse that he knew that if Crowley kissed him, he would know how Aziraphale felt. How could he not? Crowley pressed their lips together and just like Aziraphale had suspected, he melted under his cool touch and then blossomed like a flower in full bloom, pressing his lips harder against the demon's. One kiss. Only one.





	DON'T LET THEM SEE

"We've got everyone watching us  
So baby let's keep it a secret  
A little bit scandalous   
But baby don't let them see   
A little less conversation and a little more touch my body   
Because I am so into you." 

\- Into You (cover by James Arthur) 

*

*

*

"You go too fast for me, Crowley," he had said and then with a heavy heart and his throat constricting all the words that he wanted to say instead, he exited the Bentley. 

There were so many other things he could say. He could try to make Crowley understand, spare him of his pain he had endured. Aziraphale knew how much he hurt him by pushing him away. He almost gave in that day at the Bastille in 1793. Lord Almighty! He had not seen Crowley for some time and it was such a stressful situation. Seeing Crowley made his heart twist in ways angels were not meant to and he had forgotten himself when he heard the familiar voice behind him. 

When he finally turned around and saw what Crowley was wearing it took everything in him not to pounce on him like a wild animal. His gaze fluttered over Crowley in those delicious tights and his hair! He was always changing his hair. He looked more gorgeous than he remembered. He averted his gaze quickly and muttered in what he hoped was disdain, "Good Lord." 

He hoped Crowley did not notice the flush in his cheeks. The eagerness by which he asked if he could buy him lunch. The way he smirked at doing what the demon asked by changing his outfit. It was all for Crowley. He had very nearly slipped up when he reached for Crowley's hand over the table as they finished their crepes and Aziraphale thanked him once more before departing. He was almost going to invite him to his place in Soho where he was busy opening a bookshop. 

Now in Soho, in the 60s, Aziraphale walked past the illuminated neon lights from the clubs on either side of the street and walked back to his bookshop. He had heard Crowley owned his own club and wondered what the devil he was doing with that sort of business. He had just sank in his couch at the back of the shop when he heard the doorbell ring as the front door opened. Aziraphale was sure he had locked it. Crowley was standing there, his hair a reddish glow under the florescent lighting and his mouth pressed into a thin line. 

Aziraphale did not know what else there was to say so he waited for Crowley to speak. He didn't. He just stared at him from behind black glasses. He wondered what he was thinking. He knew he had upset Crowley, had disappointed him and may have led Crowley to suicidal thoughts after he had bluntly rejected him just like that and given him a bloody tartan flask of holy water. The sheer stupidity of that! Aziraphale was thankful however that Crowley was still standing. He did not want him to die. He did not want him to leave. He was afraid of losing him. As hard as that was for Aziraphale to admit to himself. 

Crowley took a step forward without a word. Aziraphale felt his breath catch in his throat. The demon walked until he was standing directly in front of Aziraphale, whose human heart was galloping like an army of war horses riding to battle. His hands were clammy and all he could think about was how he desperately needed to touch Crowley. He knew he shouldn't, but he could not help himself. 

Crowley looked down at him and he could see the shimmer of his serpentine irises peeking over the edge of his glasses. The look in them broke Aziraphale into pieces. He had been crying. Could snakes cry? That was not the issue now. He never meant to hurt Crowley. Aziraphale opened his mouth to apologise, but Crowley placed a finger to his own lips to tell him to shut up. He leaned forward and Aziraphale froze. Everything depended on this moment. Life. Death. Love. Heartbreak. All of it rose within him. A prickle of fear entered his stomach, but all was forgotten as Crowley's hot breath fanned against his still parted lips. 

"Just once. One kiss, angel. If that is all you will give me. I will never ask again. I will go slower from now on. I will....pretend." 

Pretend? There was no pretending. Try as they might they could not deny how they felt and what was worse that he knew that if Crowley kissed him, he would know how Aziraphale felt. How could he not? Crowley pressed their lips together and just like Aziraphale had suspected, he melted under his cool touch and then blossomed like a flower in full bloom, pressing his lips harder against the demon's. One kiss. Only one. That was in 1967. That was 52 years ago and a lot had happened since then. For starters Armageddon did not happen and Crowley and Aziraphale were left alone. 

They were free...free to do whatever they wanted. It had been two days after the Ritz dinner celebrating the First Day of Rest of Their Lives. Aziraphale had decided that he wanted a fresh start. He was not bound by Heaven anymore and he needed a change of scenery. Crowley suggested they go live in South Downs, he found a spot by the ocean where a little cottage was secluded from the rest of the town. A cute little place with a garden area and enough space for all of Aziraphale's books. The angel did not ask him if he had used his Demonic powers and created it out of nothing. 

He had agreed. There was nothing stopping him now. Aziraphale decorated the house with bright colours and Crowley grew flowers for the table when they had dinner together. Nothing much had changed from their usual routine. Aziraphale made scrumptious recipes and Crowley watched him eat with delight. They sat down by the fire in winter, a tartan blanket set out and Aziraphale nibbling on biscuits. It was peaceful, content. They had grown fond of each other's company and it was the same now. Except there was something else. Always hanging over them, a tension. 

Crowley was laying down, the embers of the fire turning the colour of his hair. His skin was golden and tanned, Aziraphale could not stop himself from staring at the long arch of his neck, the collarbones, the softness of his black t-shirt moulding beautifully on Crowley's body. His jeans were tight on his thighs and Aziraphale licked his lips at the thickness of it. He had never openly stared at Crowley like this. He was allowed to now. Right? Crowley shifted his leg in his slumber and murmered a bit. Aziraphale smiled fondly. 

" ' Zira...phale..." 

His eyes shot to Crowley. He was dreaming of him. His hand came out gingerly and touched his thigh lightly. A surprised noise escaped Crowley's lips and the angel flushed. What was he dreaming about? He stroked his thumb in circles over the material, his breath becoming faster as his mind turned to images he had tried not to think about. He had discovered many things about his human form and one of them was the pleasure of the body. Late at night when he knew Crowley was sleeping in his room, Aziraphale sat on the couch in the dark. His palm came to rest on his trousers that had a growing bulge in them. He pulled himself out of his pants and stroked himself off. His mind conjured pictures of Crowley, what his lean body pressed against him would feel like hot and sweaty against his own, the familiar yet quick sensation of their lips gliding together, his delicate hands tracing his body. The noises Crowley would make. The tremors in his legs. 

"Aziraphale?" Crowley's voice interrupted his thoughts. 

Aziraphale blushed and looked down at his pants. "Shit," he murmered. 

Crowley raised his brow. "Angel? Did you just swear?" There was amusement in his voice until he looked down at Aziraphale's clearly tented attire. "...what are you?...um..." Crowley's cheeks tainted pink as well. 

Aziraphale sighed in frustration. "Forgive me, Crowley. This was too forward of me." 

"Too forward? You have not done anything! You are just sitting there...I mean. Were you staring at me sleeping?" 

"Yes. I am sorry. I was watching you and I got a bit....well." He sucked his lip into his mouth which made matters worse. 

Crowley made a strangled whine at the back of his throat. "Angel. Angel. Angel. What are you doing to me?" 

His voice was a whisper. It shattered Aziraphale's demeanor, his eyes displaying all the emotions he tried to hide. Crowley allowed his glasses to be shed a while back before he laid down and now their eyes met without anything shielding them. A gasp elicited from Aziraphale as he finally saw the truth of Crowley's feelings. 

"Angel...I-" 

Aziraphale did what Crowley had done all those years ago. He placed a finger to his lips and then kissed him. A short spark ignited where their lips touched and Aziraphale let himself hold Crowley's face in his hands, gently stroking his jaw with his thumbs. He explored, tasted, teased Crowley with his tongue. Crowley was a shuddering mess under Aziraphale's mouth. Aziraphale licked into his mouth, humming in happiness. Goosebumps rose on his skin and his pants grew tighter with each kiss. 

Crowley gripped his forearms and pulled him closer. Crowley used his expert tongue to swirl patterns on Aziraphale's flesh. The angel felt hot all over and did not want this to stop. He pulled desperately at Crowley's shirt with his fist and eagerly nipped at his ear, sucking large bruises into the arch of throat and biting his shoulder. Moans flew out of his mouth. Neither one knew whose it was. Neither seemed to care. Crowley pulled Aziraphale down onto of him. His heavy weight making Crowley groan in pleasure as his plush body melted into the sharp edges of the demon. Aziraphale could hear his quickened breaths, feel him shiver along with him. He could feel the outline of Crowley's hard on through his pants pressing into his thigh. He moaned loudly as Crowley bucked up against him. 

"Aziraphale. This is okay. Right? You're okay? You want this? I am not going too fast?" 

Aziraphale shook his head aggressively and moved so their bodies were lined up better. He slowly moved against him and they both gasped out in ecstacy. 

"This is...wonderful, dear boy. It's okay. More than okay. I do want this. You have no idea." 

Crowley kissed Aziraphale, twirling his fingers into his blonde curls and tugging lightly. He flickered his tongue teasingly along his bottom lip as they rocked into each other at a steady pace. It was soft, slow, seductive, sensual. Aziraphale was quaking from the entirety of it. Love wrapping around him, coaxing itself into his cells, filling him up with Crowly. All he felt was Crowley. In his hair. On his skin. His scent intoxicating him. He had no conception of anything else. If the world was set alight and the Four Horsemen returned. Armageddon could restart and Hell could be unleashed. He would not care. None of it mattered. Nothing but this. 

They peeled each other's clothes off piece by piece. They were not in a rush. They had been waiting for this for an extremely long time, they would not dare to ruin it now. The firelight grew dim casting a romantic glow over the room. Sweat gathered on their bodies that slid together perfectly like pieces that were made to fit. Crowley's breaths hit harshly against his ears, feeling the tension in his taunt stomach as he crippled with release. Aziraphale exploded in pleasure, his whole body soaked and his bones well used. There was nothin but this. 

"Is it supposed to be like this?" Crowley murmered, stroking his hair as Aziraphale's head laid on his chest. 

"I have never experienced this before either, my love. It's....something else." 

He felt Crowley's chest shake from a deep chuckle. "Ineffable." 

Aziraphale smiled and closed his eyes. This was not about sex. Aziraphale had his fair pleasures with mortals, none of which truly satisfied him. To him sex was about physical pleasure, giving it to someone else. Aziraphale loved to give love and spread kindness. He was an angel of course, but Aziraphale also had an overwhelming interest in gluttony and engaging in many indulges that angels were not supposed to. He sought out pleasure from others, gave them what they wanted in bed. He was on the giving side rather than on the receiving end and it rather frustrated Aziraphale that no one could give it back to him. They were mortals. They could not please him in the way he wanted to be pleased. 

Yet Crowley did. 

"I love you, angel." 

His breath hitched at the emotion of Crowley's words, the deep intensity of the way he said it. Aziraphale was overcome with unbridled joy and affection. He could finally show Crowley just how much he loved him. They had laid together in bed together that night. They tasted and stroked every part of each other. Mapping. Exploring. Knowing. They got to know their corporal bodies again and again. Aziraphale knew every part of his skin, every map of freckles and scales, he treasured each sensation as he watched Crowley come undone from his mouth, savoured the sulphur-salt spend on his tongue. He loved Crowley unreservedly. He gave him everything he asked for and Crowley was more than willingly to give him what he wanted back. After all that was what Crowley had been doing for 6000 years - looking after his angel. 

He knew Crowley loved him since the Beginning. He felt it the moment they met, the radiation of love bright as a star flowing from Crowley and directly into his chest. It still took him time to finally comprehend it. Angels were beings of love, they knew the feeling so wholeheartedly. Aziraphale thought that Angels loved but were never really loved in return besides by the Creator. They never were allowed to have love in fact. They were created to do God's Will, carry out the Ineffable Plan and send messages down on Earth and perform miracles. Falling in love was not part of it. 

So when Crowley had first said that he loved him out loud, the feeling was just a little too much. He had felt it every time Crowley was near, but now it was like the dam wall had broken and it was crashing in unrelenting waves into Aziraphale, drowning him. He had no idea what to do with it. His body knew it well though. The pleasurable burst, the expansive nature as both their pleasures collided together as Crowley's name fell off his lips. 

"I love you, Crowley!" 

Crowley grinned against his collarbones. "Oh, angel."


End file.
